Welcome to Puxhill. It’s a quiet little city just a half-step off the beaten path. Everything seems normal, but the walls between worlds run thin here, and magic seeps into everyday life. Forgotten gods and faded myths live amongst the humans, and passions run deep. In Puxhill, the impossible becomes real.

In these eight erotic tales of magic, mystery, and lesbian lust, worlds collide in new and mesmerizing ways. The night manager of a seedy motel unlocks the secrets of an amnesiac girl’s past, while an angry young rocker fights for her life in a back alley. A rogue A.I. assumes human form to romance the new owner of a comic book store, shapeshifting lovers must break an ancient curse or run the risk of killing one another, and much more. Puxhill by Night collects a mixture of reprints and original stories by acclaimed author Michael M. Jones.

Includes the stories:
“The Muse’s Mask”
“Hannah and the Witch”
“Sun Chases Moon”
“Thwarting the Spirits”
“In the Service of Hell”
“The Runic Runaway”
“Doppelganger”
“The Secret Life of Ramona Lee”

Hot excerpt, keep reading!

From “Thwarting the Spirits”

In the city of Puxhill, there is a park. Crowded by day, deserted by night, it’s a patch of green set against the urban jungle. Tonight, with the full moon shining overhead, impossibly out of their natural habitats, a mongoose and a cobra fought with tiring implacability.
The cobra was a textbook example of its species, nearly eight feet long with a magnificent hood and cold eyes, and it would not have looked out of place wrapped around the god Shiva’s neck.

The mongoose was short and slender, brown of fur and long of claw, and likewise far from home.
They wrestled and leaped, paused and charged, slithered and struck. Evenly matched in speed and ferocity, neither seemed capable of gaining the advantage for long. A keen-eyed watcher who got past the impossibility of the scene might have picked up on several things. First, that both creatures were significantly larger than most of their kind, possessing preternatural presence and power. Second, that while they struggled with all their strength and cunning, neither actually seemed intent on winning. Though compelled to battle, they refused to carry it to its natural conclusion. The blood flew from a multitude of wounds, but none were by any means fatal.

At last, the night ended. The moon set, as the sun peeked over the horizon. As dawn broke, the two creatures broke apart as though repelled, putting a good distance between them. The sun’s rays flowed through the trees, striking one and then the other. Changes began. Bodies twisted, bones cracked and elongated, scales shed and fur fell out. Claws and fangs retracted, and their many wounds healed as though never inflicted. It was a swift, brutal process, over in a minute, and it left behind a pair of naked, exhausted women in place of the creatures.

The cobra was the first to recover, picking herself up off the ground to brush away the grass and dirt. Tall and lithe, radiating a queenly grace, she was all sinuous curves. Her skin was a smooth bronze, her eyes wide and dark, her lips full, currently pursed in something between frustration and amusement. Long dark hair tumbled luxuriously down her back, stray waves falling to not quite cover small breasts. Even naked, she exuded confidence. Those who knew her would have recognized her as Purnima Gurtu, a graphic designer for a local advertising agency. They’d finally know why she never joined them for drinks on the nights of a full moon.

The former mongoose was several inches shorter, with a stockier, though equally sleek, build. Her skin wasn’t quite as dark, and the stubbornness to her features made her look defiant, and a little aggravated. Glittering dark eyes and brown hair cut to the nape of her neck echoed her animal alter ego. She wasn’t so confident in her nudity, immediately turning away with an arm over her breasts. This was Hala Laghari, a research librarian for nearby Tuesday University, and she really wasn’t happy.

“This can’t go on,” Hala said, voice clipped with annoyance and embarrassment. She bent over to retrieve a small backpack from where it had been stashed in the nearby bushes.

Purnima paused to ogle the other woman’s round backside as it was unwittingly offered. “I agree. It’s not doing either of us any good. Sooner or later, it’ll all end in tears.” She moved to grab a small duffel bag from where she’d hidden it.

For several moments, the women distracted themselves by slipping on the clothes they’d put aside hours before. Purnima’s movements were slow and languid, as she slipped into matching silk purple bra and panties, before adding an ankle-length multi-colored skirt, a low-cut light blue shirt, and well worn sandals. Hala was much more awkward, moving with furtive speed. First, plain white cotton underwear, then a long-sleeved brown shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. Finally, with a great deal of care, she wrapped her hair in a black hijab, tying the ends of the scarf securely. Once she was properly covered, she relaxed a little.

They finished straightening up as best they could, looking around to make sure they hadn’t missed anything or been spotted. Early morning city sounds echoed from the nearby outskirts of the park, as Puxhill properly came to life. Their gazes met, and an awkward moment of silence was broken only when Purnima spoke. “So. Breakfast, then? The usual place?”

Hala dipped her head. “I will meet you there shortly.”

Purnima’s eyebrow quirked. “Prayer first, of course.” She was well used to Hala’s ways. The teasing came out of habit.

Hala puffed indignantly. “Though my family cast me out for loving as I do, and I transform into a monster every month, I will not abandon my faith. I merely… make adjustments under the circumstances, and pray Allah will forgive my irregularities.”

“Easy, my dear, I’m not judging you,” said Purnima, tone softly soothing. “I will order for you, and see you soon.” She bestowed a fond smile upon the other woman, almost reaching out, but rethinking it. Instead, she bowed her head, turned, and left.

Hala closed her eyes for a long moment, breathing deeply, before departing as well. The rising sun took no notice of them.

In this collection of erotic lesbian urban fantasy stories, a mixture of reprints and originals, Michael M. Jones explores the city of Puxhill, where myths and legends live in secret amongst the mortal population. The night manager of a seedy motel unlocks the secrets of an amnesiac girl’s past, while an angry young rocker fights for her life in a back alley. A rogue A.I. assumes human form to romance the new owner of a comic book store, shapeshifting lovers must break an ancient curse or run the risk of killing one another, and much more.
Also available in paperback!